


You're in a car with a beautiful boy...

by mishasbroackles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Eileen Leahy, Emotions, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Good Parent John Winchester, Humor, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Kidnapping, Kissing It Better, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Police Officer Benny Lafitte, Police Officer Castiel (Supernatural), Police Officer John Winchester, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Protective Sam Winchester, Relationship(s), Sam Winchester is So Done, Sweet, Switching, Therapy, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2020-10-21 11:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20692679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishasbroackles/pseuds/mishasbroackles
Summary: Dean Winchester was 10 years old when he was abducted from a playground, right under his fathers nose.Dean Winchester was 27 years old when Officer Novak led the 40th crusade to rescue him from Micheal Milton's basement.Dean Winchester had no idea how to move on. He was lost, surrounded by family who loved him, a brother who longed for the familiar bond they once had, a father who hovered and a police officer who kept dropping by to give him bags of tea and cookies.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thank you to Richard Siken for creating amazing poems! My title is from one of his poems from his book CRUSH. Second, this is my first time posting on AO3. I hope that I will do well! I'm going to shoot for posting every friday but if that changes, Ill make a note of it. I was inspired by the song ghostin-ariana grande and this work just wouldn't leave me. Anyway, all criticism is welcome. I hope you all enjoy.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────

> **I try to hold it in the night**   
** While you're sleepin' next to me**   
** But it's your arms that I need this time**

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

_Were those gunshots?_

_Those are definitely gunshots._

_Dean cracked open one eye, swollen and weepy, so he couldn't keep it open very long. His limbs shook while he searched for a pair of boxers or pants. The mattress he was on creaked and complained, too flimsy to hold his weight properly. Dean was surrounded by wet, humid, darkness. A thin sheen of sweat was constantly covering his next to naked body. The t-shirt he had last night was bloody and ripped. He jumped as his own hands wrapped around his body. Take it easy, damn, he cursed. Footsteps and shouts could be heard in the home above. That was certainly- new. Usually Michael had a friend or two over but never enough to make the entire house shake. Dean couldn’t pick up what the voices were saying. His ears felt clogged. Slowly, he crept towards the stairs, curiosity getting the best of him. Michael would be upset he moved from the bed but at this moment Dean couldn’t find it in him to care._

_“THIS DOOR IS LOCKED, NOVAK!”_

_Dean threw himself back, landing on his ass, then crawled fast as he could on shaky arms. The voice was loud and right there. More shouting could be heard but it was further away. Dean closed his eyes. Michael must have reinstalled the cameras. He knew Dean got up. But he had swore that after last time he trusted Dean-_

_The door handle rattled. Dean couldn’t breathe. His whole body started to vibrate, his vision going in and out like it will when his nerves can’t keep up. Shouts and boot scrapes and now a loud BANG, BANG, BANG shot through his ears and down his core. Dean covered his head. This was the end. The door cracked then after another crash it splintered open. Light flashed over Dean’s face, blinding him, but he couldn’t force his eyes shut. Shapes poured into the darkness around him, voices loud and demanding. A shadow came close to where he was curled into himself. Dean forced his eyes to focus. The shadow was now a shape, the shape of a man. He was walking slowly but closer to Dean every moment._

_“Dean Winchester?”_

_What? A low grumble whispered his name, then he did it again. What did this shadow want? It came closer to him now close enough to touch, to feel its body heat._

_“Dean Winchester? Is that you?”_

_Is that me? Dean knew his name was Dean. But Winchester? He had no last name. Did he? He sucked in a hollow breath, but nodded. The man? Shape? Bent down in front of him into a crouch. Dean couldn’t see his face. The light coming from the stairs above burned._

_“Dean? My name is Officer Novak. Is it okay if I touch your arm?”_

_Why was he asking? Just do it and get it over with. But Micheal didn’t like it when he didn’t answer so maybe the voice was the same way. Dean still couldn’t tell if he was a man or just a shadow person his brain was making up._

_So he nodded yes._

_‘Officer Novak’ placed a firm hand on Dean’s left shoulder. Warmth exploded through Dean’s nervous system making him shiver and whine. He was so pathetic. Words were being spoken to him again but he couldn’t get the strength to hear them. A crackle made him jump, tinny voices coming through calling out to the ‘Officer’ in front of him. Dean watched as the man rose a radio to his face. He was answering them._

_“Yes. Yes I found him. I have him. Dean Winchester- he’s saved.”_

_»—————————–✄_

“It’s been three months. I should be able to walk out a fucking door.”

“Dean!”

“Sorry, sorry…”

Dean was frustrated. No, that isn’t the correct term. He was pissed. He honestly thought after he got over the initial fear of everything that moved around him, walking through a damn door was going to be the easy part. He had thought wrong. 

“Chuck said this was a huge milestone, Dean. I know you don’t think so but it really is.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I guess.”

Okay so it was a huge milestone. But he was battling with that as well. His brain wasn’t as clogged anymore, his logic no longer being flushed from his body. Dean spent a chunk of his life not being allowed to pass through a door without being led by hand. That bast-no, Chuck said to use his real name, Micheal, hadn’t allowed him to go anywhere without him leading. Dean said he assumed it was for safety reasons. The police said it was so he wouldn’t run. That made more sense. 

So here he was, twenty-seven years old and he can’t go out into the world without one of his family members taking his hand and leading him. This in itself was horrid but knowing no one aside from children dealt with this was really messing with him. 

“Do you want to try tomorrow?” Mary whispered, afraid of upsetting him probably. Dean was doing that too. Getting unnecessarily upset. Gah, no, again, not unnecessarily. He has got to stop doing that or Chuck may start to gape at him like a fish out of water again and no one needs that image. Dean took a deep breath, told himself that he was okay. His mother pressed her side against his. They found that if they had a small amount of contact he could enter and leave rooms easier. It was progress. Focusing on her warmth, the smell of honey and Tide Detergent, he walked through the door. Sunlight blinded him, cars mozied on past and a dog was barking happily a few doors down. Dean paused to feel the warmth of the sun on his pale skin. Years of being kept in the dark prevented his skin from tanning at all, though his mother told him he used to get a beautiful shade with freckles everywhere when he was younger. Before. His shirt was loose but he pulled on it. Mary stepped around him to stand beside him. 

“See? Good to go! You did good, honey,” she said, hand coming up to cup his cheek. Dean tried to stay still, not wanting to flinch away though ever signal in his brain told him to expect pain. He was happy to ignore it when her thumb brushed his cheek then fell away. So many years had he longed for his mother’s touch. 

“Guess so. We gonna see Sam?”

Mary just nodded, gathering her bags to take to the car. Dean grabbed a few and slowly walked towards the open doors. After throwing the bags in they loaded up and took off. His mom’s Ford wasn’t big, he heard his dad grumbling about it often, but it felt nice to him. Dean snuggled into the seats, cool air blowing on his face. 

“I see Officer Novak stopped by yesterday. How is he?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine? You two spent three hours in that police car. What did you do, just sit?”

As a matter of fact:

_ The squad car door shut behind Dean and he was now face to face with Castiel Novak, Officer of the law, stuffing his face with pasta from Andrea’s Pasta Pit. He was moaning and groaning, like this was his last meal. _

_ Or his first. _

_ “Have you ate today?” _

_ Cas stopped eating, fork midair, a sauce covered noodle dangling off his chin. _

_ “No. It was very busy. I was patrolling your house from two A.M. until noon. Then I was needed at the station to catch up Officer Fitzgerald on the grocery store robbery from last night. That took an hour because he was convinced it wasn’t a robbery. It was. Teenagers are monsters. After that, my shift was up at two but Benny needed me to take him downtown because he just HAD to have a box of candy from my brother’s store for Andrea. They got into a very deep argument this morning and he needed to apologize properly. His car is still broken. It’s very inconvenient but I enjoy his company. He gave me this on the house from her restaurant. The garlic bread is a bit tough for my liking but the spaghetti noodles with the mozzarella? Divine. How are you, Dean?” _

_ Dean laughed as the officer’s rant came to an end. They began to see one another everyday after his initial escape from the basement. At first, the visits were routine, check ups and letting family members know they were patrolling the area. Micheal had been caught but his older brother, Lucifer, who had kidnapped Dean in the first place, was still in the wind. John Winchester made sure to keep a squad car within an arm's length at all times. _

_ After the first month, Officer Novak became Cas and he brought Dean tea along with cookies from his brother’s bakery. Dean hated the tea but didn’t say so. The cookies were sweet and he gave them to his dad. Kindness made Dean itch. He suspected Castiel sensed this so he started staying after the drop off. They didn’t really speak. Most times they sat there. Dean watched Cas eat mostly, sometimes he stole a bite, earning himself a deathly glare from the pair of sapphire eyes in front of him. _

_ It took another month for Cas to ask Dean to talk about his day. Dean didn’t really want to. He would've rather sat in silence. But his mouth didn’t get the memo so he started spewing words left and right. He told Cas about his therapist, Chuck, who looked like a shaken squirrel most times. Dean spoke about how he felt he didn’t even know Sam, a new lawyer and two hours away, his girlfriend Eileen who had lost her hearing but was the strongest person he had met and how he had found out John and Mary had almost divorced, papers signed and everything. Two days before they met with the lawyers, Dean was found. Now he lived with them and their bickering and their makeup sex. Cas had gone cross eyed at that, stating he wished to have never known about his superior’s ‘loud, obnoxious make up sex that resembled howler monkeys and downtown traffic at five P.M.’ That was funny. _

_ “I’m okay. I walked through the door again."_

_ Dean pointed to the door like Castiel hadn’t entered it over a dozen times. The officer nodded his approval, cheeks wide with garlic bread and noodles. He swallowed, slung back his bottle of water and spoke, _

_ “I’m very proud of you. You are doing miles beyond what the normal victim of abuse and a child kidnapping normal does in a six month period. The doors, I know, are a huge deal. How have you dealt with the light?” _

_ Another thing Castiel was good at; being extremely straight forward. The kid gloves didn’t exist towards Dean. Cas handled him with just the right amount of care that it didn’t feel like care, it felt like they were talking sports. _

_ “The light is- The light is still different. Wanna be outside all the time but I can’t, yknow?” _

_ Castiel hmed along, food back in mouth, as Dean went on to tell him that their plan was to see Sam. The two sat there just talking for another few hours until Dean saw the clock said six, and announced that he had to go in. Castiel waved him off and sped away. _

“Yeah pretty much. He ate. I told him about Sam.”

“Boys…” his mother muttered.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know i said i was going to update on Friday's but due to my husband being in the military i had to drive him around on friday to get him ready to deploy for a month in november. So lets say that i will update by Sunday every week. This chapter is feeling more like a filler, but i promise it gets more interesting. i promise! Since this chapter isn't long, I will try posting again on Tuesday or Wednesday!! 
> 
> Anyway thanks for reading.

**«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»**

** Look at the cards that we've been dealt. **

**If you were anybody else**

**Probably wouldn't last a day**

**Every tear's a rain parade from hell **

  
**«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»**

When Dean was found, he wasn’t permitted to go home immediately. This was confusing for him. The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children sent in a rep, a counselor and arranged for every single one of his needs to be met. Dean sometimes dreams about the flashing lights of what he found out were cameras of the media. His handler often shouted at the reporters. Dean didn’t know why they wanted a picture of him. He wasn’t all that special. Micheal told him his face was too round, his hands were too large and the way Dean laughed made him want to claw his eyes out. So why a reporter for the news kept trying to get him to talk or look this way was beyond him. 

The day after he was saved, Dean wanted a blanket. A very specific blanket that he had slept on since he was taken. It was blue, ratty at the ends and had his name embroidered with shiny purple thread. He missed burying his face in it. 

“Honey? What did you say you wanted?”

His mother had been crying when he signed ‘blanket.’ She was trying very hard not to, he could tell. He heard her repeat, my baby my baby my beautiful baby, but he wasn't beautiful. He just wanted his blanket. She didn’t know sign language, he guessed. Micheal didn’t want to hear his voice after a few years. It was too loud and rough. But his mom was looking at his face like he was going to disappear any moment, so he cleared his throat, raw from lack of use, and said, 

“My-My blanket. Where-Can I…?

“Oh! Oh! Okay. Um, let me ask...One second”

Mary practically ran from the room in the police station. They were still there. Dean wanted to know why but he didn’t feel like asking. He waited for his mom to come back by looking at his body. The officers had given him soft sweatpants, black with a red circle logo on the leg. Long pants weren't a luxury he was given often, and it was cold, so he was grateful for it now. He wore a bright orange, ugly t shirt with a baggy black zip up jacket. The first thing that popped into his mind when he saw himself in the windows of the police station was ‘wow I look like a pumpkin.’ He really wanted to carve pumpkins. Micheal said carving pumpkins was the devil's work. His brother was named Lucifer though so maybe he just wasn’t crafty. Dean was messing with the zipper on his jacket when a knock at the door made him jump. His mom entered slowly a second later with a man behind her. Dean felt like he should've recognized his face but he was so tired and his brain was already fried. 

“Dean? Hey, I talked to Officer Novak and he said that any of your belongings from-from that...house- any of them were taken to be-”

She was having a hard time. Dean felt like he should do something but he just stared at her. He really was useless. She floundered for a moment, until the dark haired man placed a hand on her shoulder, muttering quiet words to her, ushering her out of the room gently. Dean didn’t exactly want her to go but when she did, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Was it relief? Who knows anymore. 

“Dean? I know you had requested your blanket. Unfortunately most of your items are needed for evidence but I managed to grab this-”

His feet worked on their own. A second later his blanket was back in his hands, pressed to his lap and shielding him once again. Dean had sank back into the chair, tired eyes taking in the twitching officer before him. 

Scruffy. His hair was wild and scruffy. Lips looked chapped, with tanned skin and brilliant blue eyes that kept looking around the room like someone was going to jump and grab them. 

“Thanks,” Dean whispered. He hoped this guy didn’t find his voice annoying. Micheal hated when he spoke. The last time he spoke to him ended with Dean getting screamed at while being punched. The punches didn’t hurt much anymore. Micheal wasn’t as strong as he once was. 

Officer Novak looked pleased. That was a new emotion. An emotion Dean didn’t know how to handle so he just turned away before he ruined the moment. 

The rest of the day had been rushed. He was speaking to officers, to counselors, to his mom and she mentioned his dad but he was so scared to see him, a panic attack happened so that was the end of that talk. Dean was told he needed to be accumulated back into society. He knows they worded it better but his recall was so spotty. For a week, he went through therapist to therapist, his parents' home had to be inspected, top to bottom. The day he saw his dad was a day he dreaded. The ice powerful man in his mind, though, looked tired. His hair was speckled with gray, his handsome face was thin and eyes puffy. Dean could remember how booming and commanding his father once was but when he spoke to his son, he was soft and gentle. 

A month passed before he asked the most important question in his mind. "Where's Sam?" 

Both of his parents had glanced up from dinner, worry on their faces. Sam was only six when Dean was taken. He was Dean's whole world, the number one thing that Dean refused to forget. He would dream about who he became, how tall he was going to be, who he'd marry. Sometimes when Micheal punished him by leaving him alone and untouched for months at a time, Dean kept hold of his humanity by thinking of Sam. He felt horrible he couldn't get up the nerve to ask before. So he asked again. 

"Where's Sammy?"

His dad was the one to answer. 

"Well, son, we didn't-we didn't know how to tell him about this-"

"I want to see him."

He elected to ignore their choices to keep Sam in the dark. His goal wasn't to argue. It was to see his brother. His mom then started speaking fast to John, her tone angry and sad. 

In the end, Dean called Sam. 

"Hello?"

"Sammy?"

"Uh, it's Sam, um, this is my mom's number is everything okay?" 

"Sam. Its Dean."

He was met with silence but that was okay because his vocal chords were starting to ache. 

"This-that's not funny. dean- my brother is dead."

"Sammy. Not dead. Here. Mom." 

He hated giving the phone away but his throat was raw. Why did Sam think it he was dead? Okay, after over a decade maybe he would think the same. No, he wouldn't have given up hope. Dean heard yelling on the other end of the phone. His dad gently took the phone then walked outside. Serves them right. He wanted to hear Sam's voice again but he was too busy yelling. 

Two days later, Sam showed up. 


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! New Chapter! Just a HUGE PSA: Throughout the entire fic there are going to be IMPLIED levels of sexual assault but never will there be any graphic descriptions. I don't do that. Anyway I hope this starts to make a little more sense. The chapters are going to jump around and be jumbled but this is how Dean would tell the story. It will all come together soon! And will eventually all be in present tense. But the past tense moments are needed to get the full story.

**«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»**

**Baby, you do it so well**

** You been so understanding, you been so good **

**«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»**

_ The park was warm today. Leaves were falling all around Dean. He laughed as he attempted to catch one mid-air. He almost had it. A gush of wind blew his hair back. Dean closed his eyes. It felt good. Kids pushed on by him as he stood there, his face to the sun, soaking up the last few days of warmth. In school, they were learning how the seasons affect the temperature outside. Dean decided he liked the fall. Winter was fun because of the snow and christmas but he wasn’t always allowed outside during winter like he is the fall. Summer seemed to drag on too much especially this last summer due to his former football coach having a baby so he was too busy to hold practices. _

_ “Dean! I’m going to sit right here okay?” _

_ The boy turned his vibrant green eyes towards his father, sitting on a bench covered by papers and sticky residue from the various drinks spilled on it. John Winchester was solid, dark hair and dark eyes. As an officer he was commanding and no one dared talk back to his face. He was also studying for a test. Dean’s mom had told him his dad wanted to be the Chief of Police so he needed to bring the papers with him everywhere. Even on their weekly outings. _

_ The outings started when mom had his little brother, Sam. Sam had been small, loud and smelly. He was still all of those things but he isn't as loud anymore. Unless Dean stole a piece of his food or took his bike. Then he wailed like a baby. Anyway, one day his mom told dad she needed a break. Dad was around a lot more back then; weekends, early days and getting way more days off. She had practically shoved them both out the door, threw the keys to the impala at them and closed the door. John had taken that as his cue to get out of dodge. They went to the mall, Dean got to eat a cone all by himself and they drove out to the huge lake to wade in the water up to their knees. _

_ After that day they never really stopped. John would take an hour out of his day, no matter how busy, to take Dean to get a sandwich or to the park. Sometimes they would go to the water park where Dean splashed in the tiny fountain. _

_ He was ten now so he knew to stay out of his mom’s way when she was tired or angry or cycling. What dad had called it anyway. But even so, John continued his little trips with Dean and Dean still enjoyed them. _

_ “Okay dad!” Dean yelled back. Satisfied with the answer, John returned to his work while Dean ran to the swings on the farthest side of the park. He was only allowed to go to these swings because his dad chose that bench. Other benches weren’t in the line of sight and Dean could get hurt without his dad knowing. The boy was whistling, a trick he just learned from his best-friend Benny, as he plopped down on the lowest hanging swing. He may be older now but his legs aren’t long enough for the bigger swings and his goal was to go very high today. Dean had told Sammy that he was going to touch the sun with his feet. Sam didn’t believe him so he needed to prove him wrong. _

_ A few minutes past when Dean heard a voice next to him. He bolted off the swing but landed on his butt. A man was standing there, jeans and a neon green t-shirt, chewing on a tooth pick. _

_ “Hey kid I need your help.” _

_ Dean was prepared for this. Dad taught him to never help another adult, to tell him to ask his dad who is an officer. When Dean repeated this the man ran a shaky hand through his sandy blond hair. He seemed nervous. Why was he nervous? Dean didn’t want to run even though every part of his body wanted to scamper away. _

_ “Kid don’t make me hurt you, just - just come with me okay?” _

_ “No!” _

_ Dean jumped to his feet but the man had already grabbed him. He was kicking and punching and biting, everything he was ever taught. But the man had large muscles, and some cloth with a sweet smelling odor to it. The man pressed it to Dean’s face and he felt his body start to sag. He was screaming at himself to fight more, don’t give up. In his struggle he had hit his wrist against the swings, so his hand was throbbing. After a few moments, Dean was out. _

_ Taking a huge breath, Dean awoke to darkness. His brain felt like mush, his limbs were stinging. And he was moving. The movement felt like car. Voices finally registered. It was two males, one was whispering very frantically while the other was just telling his partner to shut up. They didn’t sound very nice. Dean made a noise which startled them. _

_ “Oh shit, he’s awake, Luc.” _

_ “I told you I needed more. It wasn’t going to last the entire ride.” _

_ Dean still couldn’t see but they were talking about him. He was panicking. Why did they have him? Where was his dad? His dad was a cop, he would come get him. It was going to be okay. Dean held onto the words that his dad always told him; “I will never let you out of my sight, and if that day comes, I will hunt for you forever.” Thank god he’s so paranoid. Dean wiggled around trying to guess what was on him. It felt like a sack that you would carry potatoes, old and scratchy. He kept making muffled noises. Kept trying to ask these men what was happening. _

_ “Shut him up.” _

_ “I don’t have any more chloroform. Just let him get it out now.” _

_ “He’s being too loud.” _

_ “We’re in a car…” _

_ Dean listened to them go back and forth like this for a while. He tried to remember ever turn, every stop. He listened to the sounds around him. Why did no one notice he was there? Cars would go past and he wanted so bad to signal to them. Suddenly, the car came to a halt. A door opened, closed and then opened again. He waited as the car idled for a moment, a muted creak could be heard then they rolled on. Dean swore he heard the tires crunching rocks. So they must be in a driveway. It took five minutes before the car stopped again. Dean’s heart started pumping loud. The door to the back opened and he was being moved. They didn’t bother setting him on his feet. The blanket over him scratched at his face. Whomever was carrying him swayed when they walked. No one talked and often Dean wondered if they did that on purpose. Finally they reached another door, it opened scraping across what sounded like cement. Dean was put on his feet and revealed to the world. _

_ Around him was a small shed. Light was poking in through the cracks in the wood. It smelled wet. There really wasn’t anything in the shed beyond a few buckets that looked to be holding water and a cot. Dean turned to the man who had carried him in. _

_ “Where am I? What is this?” _

_ “You’d do go to not ask, kid.” _

_ It was the man from the park. He was still shaky. His eyes kept darting to the door that dean could see now was an ugly metal. Locks littered the frame closest to the door knob. _

_ “I want my mom. I wanna go home.” _

_ He was met with silence. The man from the park, Luc, if he could remember from the earlier argument between him and the other guy, just laid out the scratchy blanket. He walked towards Dean then who still had his limbs tied like a fresh chicken, and undid his knots. For a moment, Dean was going to bolt. Luc had anticipated this though because he kept a firm hold on Dean’s injured wrist, then slapped a tiny pair of handcuffs on said wrist. Dean hissed and whined when the cuff cut into his skin. _

_ “Sorry, Kid. Orders. Can’t have you runnin’ off.” _

_ “I shouldn’t be here! I don’t like you! I don't want you!” _

_ Dean wanted to scream but he was scared. He was being drug towards the cot, forced on to it, then the other end cuffed the rusty leg. Like a wild animal, Dean thrashed, pulled at it, tried to break his thumb. He was angry. He was so scared. All the while, Luc just kept sighing at him. He acted like anywhere else is where he wanted to be. _

_ “I have to change you.” _

_ “What? No!” _

_ He was NOT going to take off his clothes. But after struggling for twenty minutes, Luc had cut off his favorite shirt, and his tattered jeans. Luc covered his eyes as Dean stood there, bright orange boxers and socks, tears streaming down his face. He sniffled hard. This was not okay. He was not okay. Luc just threw a large t-shirt towards him commanding him to put it on. Then he stormed out, Dean’s clothes in hand. The lock sounded, the first sound that Dean would grow to dread. _

_ At ten, Dean knew a little bit about his body. He knew he was growing up and weird things would happen. Hair was growing in places he didn’t really like and being almost naked in front of a man who took you from your dad was not okay. The shirt he was given took a long time to get on thanks to the cuff. He didn’t really have it on when the door opened again. _

_ " _Dean?"

Dean looked up in to his therapists eyes. His stories were jumbled. He was confusing him. 

"Sorry. I-ah- I can't keep anything straight huh?"

"No need to apologize. I get it. It's all important. Just tell me what you're comfortable with."

Dean glanced down at his phone. It was flashing due to a new message. He knew exactly who it was. A small smile worked it's way on to his face. Without thinking, Dean opened the message. It was a very confused looking Castiel, dressed in his police uniform, angel wings behind him that had been drawn on to the building years ago. The next photo was Gabriel taking a selfie mid Cas trying to talk. Dean took a deep breath, thanking whoever he needed for the brothers. Chuck was waiting patiently for him to continue with his story about Sam or maybe the taking. Dean knew eventually it all had to come out. So, he chose the easier story to continue. The one where Sam punched his dad, cried for a few hours and then finally accepted Dean was real. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lack of update! Life became crazy but I am back! I had two people I commented to last night saying a chapter would be up last night but of course, a storm hits Illinois and my power goes out. But here it is! And I will be updating as much as I can! I am hoping to maintain a decent schedule with updates. Thank you for those who are being patient !

**«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»**

**And I'm puttin you through more than no one ever should**

**And I'm hatin myself cause you dont **

**Want to admit that it hurts you **

**«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»**

Sam grew. Of course he grew, it had been years. But the days had been long and thinking of Sam not being a six year old, waiting for him with open arms, terrorized him more than comforted him while he was in that home. 

“Dean, I know you don’t understand why we didn’t tell him, we just didn’t know how.”

“We were afraid of exposing you to other people.”

Excuses were thrown at him left and right but Dean remained silent. He could have screamed that he knows his own boundaries but that wasn’t true. Just a few days ago, he tried to walk around the neighborhood alone and the sight of a man wearing a green shirt caused a full blown panic attack. He loved the color green. Well, used to. Dean could also throw at them that Sam wasn’t just another person. He was his brother! But that wasn’t the whole truth either. Sam was still his brother, but who was he outside of that? Was he mean? Loud? Did he enjoy reading or sports? Dean’s mind wandered as his parents scurried around waiting for the arrival of their youngest son. 

Eight- thirty three and a knock was heard. Then another. John shot up to answer before a WHACK WHACK-

“Sam!”

The door was yanked open in the middle of Sam pounding on the solid wood door. Dean was sitting on the couch, eyes glued to the man partially blocked by their father. He heard John say something, probably having to do with PTSD ,what else? The voice coming from who was supposed to be his brother was deep, stern then all of a sudden in the room. Mary stayed back as John laid a hand on his younger sons shoulder.

“Sam, I’m sorry. I know we should have-”

“Save it! Dad what the fuck?! I can- Is this really Dean? Are you even sure that you got the right guy?!”

Valid. Dean wanted to laugh. He remembers how righteous his little brother used to be. Questions were always thrown Dean’s way about why and how and are you sure? Some things refuse to change. 

“Sam- Sammy, c'mere” Dean croaked out. He hadn’t spoken too much in the past few hours, he needed to remember that was a requirement. His brother's laser focus was now on him. Dean got a good look at him now, tall and lanky and broad. Of course he still had the hair. 

“You ever hear of a haircut you hippie?” 

Sam pushed past John, fell to his knees before Dean and grabbed his face. Warnings were yelled out but Dean steeled himself for this. He allowed Sam to touch him, to roam about his face, his freckles and the scar on his hand from climbing that damn tree at their grandparents house. That seemed to have convinced Sam enough as he burst out in tears. Tears were not expected. But Dean gathered him up, comforting him like he did when Sam was four and cried over his pet ladybug flying away, then held him for what felt like hours. Sam was talking but Dean’s senses were fried so he didn’t hear him. It was okay, he was okay. After a while Sam wiped his face then turned to stand. 

“Why did you not tell me? This is a huge fucking deal and you kept it from me! He’s my brother!” 

“Sam, we had no idea how he’d react. It's been ten years.”

“Did you ever think to ask him?!”

No. But that didn’t need to be voiced. Dean had to give his parents credit, no one really had a rule book on how to deal with a child who was abducted then found ten years later. Asking him how he felt may have been a good start. 

“Sam, it's fine. You’re here now,” Dean grumbled. It wasn’t good enough for his brother who kept lecturing on how John, as a cop, should know damn well how victims of abuse, ugh, and sex crimes, ugh ugh, should be given control of their lives yada yada. 

“He can barely walk through the door ,kid, forgive me for being afraid that his little brother could send him in a panic when he realizes you’re not so little anymore!”

“HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN SHOWN PICTURES, BEEN PREPPED , NOT HIDDEN!”

“Dammit, would you stop yelling at-”

“No! You can’t treat him like a scared animal, dad!”

“I’M NOT! I’M DOING MY BEST AND YOU WERENT THE BEST FOR HIM- OW FUCK!”

Dean went wide eyed as his monster of a brother shook his hand out, after punching their father. Inside, Dean was ready to run. It had been months since a fight was about him, months since punches were thrown and while he could logically tell himself both parties were only concerned about his well being ,the flight part of his instincts began to kick in. John was trying to remain calm, Sam a bundle of fury, glared daggers as he ripped into both parents. Oh good they’re distracted, Dean thought. He slipped away down the hall and into his room. The lock on the door was installed by his dad the day he came to live with them. It was better that way. He controlled the door opening and closing. No more busting through, no more yanking him up by his wrist, no more pain. A crash was heard, then “Dammit, dad!” Seconds later a soft knock was heard against his door. At least they knocked. But Dean remained on the bed. He didn’t want them to keep fighting. Not over him. He wasn’t worth it. Sam should just know that. He should be able to see how toxic he is. This was all his fault. 

_ Click  _

How did he end up here? He was at his door, dammit he blacked out again, unlocking the door. Sam, bless him, poked his head through but didn’t barge in. 

“Heya, Dean, sorry about- sorry about fightin’ dad back there.”

He sounded so small. Green eyes met hazel and Dean was flashed back to a small Sam riding on his handlebars, scared but feeling really free; sneaking out into the back yard to watch the meteor showers and name the constellations after one another. Slowly, he was allowed inside the room. He remembered to lock the door again. 

“Dean? Can I sit?”

“Might as well…”

Why was he being quiet. This is what he wanted-no needed. But here was the person who kept him going all those years and the reality hit him; they knew nothing about one another. Maybe his dad was right. Oh Sam was talking. 

“-And she does sign language too. She really wanted to come but she knows how it can be. She’s a police officer. I -uh- I know we’ve missed out on a lot but,um, maybe we can change that?”

“That- nice yeah- be nice.”

Okay this was pathetic. He couldn’t even talk. Chuck is going to have a hayday with this. Dean mentally rolled his eyes just imagining how many ‘mental exercises’ he's going to have to deal with for this doozy. 

“I don’t want to overwhelm you. Can you tell me what you need from me, Dean?”

“Ah, just- I just need you here okay?”

Sam had tears in his eyes and of course that made Dean recoil. That sadness isn’t for him. Its for the brother he lost. This Dean doesn’t deserve emotions. He picked at his fingers, a bad habit he paid for after his anxiety took him over one too many times. Sam just sat with him well into the night, softly telling him about his life. The life he was forced to have after Dean was taken. Though he did try to hide how hard it was for him , the younger man was never good at hiding things from his brother, so Dean took his hand, the only comfort he could provide. 

It was midnight when he left, a cell number and a promise to text and visit as often as possible. Dean went to sleep that night clutching the blanket he refused to be without-squeezing his eyes and praying this wasn’t a dream. 


End file.
